The Claw Games
by Robinflightt
Summary: Many moons ago, Darktail forged an allegiance with the Dark Forest, and together they took over the Clans. Every leaf-fall and newleaf, the cats are forced to participate in the Claw Games, a killing competition. Who will survive? Rated T for mild descriptions of violence.


**Chapter One- Ever in your favor**

_Lightpaw _

_ThunderClan apprentice_

_Division Three_

The thrush a few pawsteps in front of me pecked away at the nuts underneath the tree, oblivious to its predator. Silently, I crept forwards, then bunched my muscles to pounce. The bird, scenting me, let out a _squawk _ of alarm, but with a deft blow to its head, I silenced it. Finally, my family would eat well tonight. Dangling the thrush in my mouth, I headed back to our camp, but before I could move, a large cat blocked my way. He was a white tom, and his amber eyes shone with desperation. Only a pitiful mouse dangled from his jaws. He bared his yellowed teeth, and with a snarl he leapt at me, aiming for the thrush. I couldn't think about anything but defending it and attempted to knock him off of me. Of course I'd been trained by my mentor, Cherrycloud, in fighting, but this tom was massive. How was I expected to fight _that _off on my own? I tried doing the leap-and-hold move, grabbing onto the tom with my tiny claws and battered his pelt, leaving small scars, but nothing was effective. After I raised her paws to blow down, he shook me off, leaping for the thrush. _I'm doomed, _I thought. But at that second, I saw a gray streak launch into the battle. My brother, Thymepaw, had come to help! Together, we struck our claws into him and finished our opponent off. But before he could fully retreat, Thymepaw (the hunting prodigy, who had no problem doing something like this) lay a shrew in front of him, the smallest of his catches. Yet it was juicy and plump.

"Take that," he said, kindness in his voice. The tom whirled around, snatched the shrew up, and then marched away, in the direction of the 'formal' ThunderClan camp.

I spun to face my brother. "Thymepaw! Why did you do that?" I hissed at him. I knew I shouldn't be _that _mad, but I couldn't help it. He had wasted prey! Valuable prey that could be used to help Hazelstorm, our mother, who was suffering from whitecough. Why did he have to be so mouse-brained?

The gray tom's response was only to shrug. "I already had plenty. Besides, he needed it. He was desperate."

"Still doesn't mean anything. He was going to kill me for my prey, Thymepaw!" I was overexaggerating, but I couldn't help it. "Enough, you say! Sure, there's the thrush. Let's say that that feeds you and I. Your vole, which obviously goes to Hazelstorm. The squirrel, shared between Stoatstream and Gooseflower. Then what? We're still missing two cats, and even if _I'm _willing to give up _my_ prey, you _know_ what the others are like! Come on, Thymepaw! I expected better of you."

He gazed at me, hurt and surprised. "Lightpaw-"

"No." I cut him off. "I don't want to hear anything you want to say. Sorry doesn't feed mouths."

Back at our camp, I drop the thrush in front of Hazelstorm and our father, Frostface. The brown tabby she-cat looks up through glazed eyes and murmurs a quiet thanks, while the gray-and-white tom who was my father didn't say anything; instead he bent down to eat the prey. I slipped out of the den, calling "Going to look for herbs", before slipping out. And finally, I was free.

The forest was calm, but the one place I wanted to go didn't exactly classify as the forest. It was the Twoleg den, where catmint (the herb to cure my mother's whitecough) was grown. Fortunately, the den was abandoned, so I didn't have to worry about Twolegs picking me up and taking me away. If it wasn't for my family, I would do that. In an instant.

We had long abandoned the idea of leaving the Clans. Darktail, the first leader, and his son, and his son after that, had rogues posted _everywhere_, and it was impossible to escape. Since it wasn't as awful a prospect to be killed, that was not the punishment, as it had been long ago. Instead, you were wiped of all your tesserae for the next twelve-moon cycle, and not allowed to apply at all in the future. In addition, anyone in your family 'unit' was added extra names for as long as they were eligible. So you shouldn't try to escape. Few had tried, and none had succeeded.

It wasn't worth the effort.

I found a few stems of catmint, but not much. It certainly wouldn't help. But… maybe, combined with the tesserae that they gave each cat who could receive every quarter-moon, it would lessen it. Just as long as it didn't turn into greencough, it was treatable. I'd have to check with Frostface to see when the next tesserae packages would come in. Hopefully it was soon.

Thymepaw and I had decided to split the tesserae servings. Of course, being the heroic one, he volunteered to take one more than me each year. I protested, however, and we exchanged every year. I supplied for Thymepaw, Dawnpaw (our sister), and Larchwood, our mother's mother. Thymepaw supplied for me and our parents. We split our mother's father (the victor of the 20th games- something we were all proud of), Batface's, every year. Neither of us would allow Dawnpaw to exchange for tesserae. She was much too fragile and weak, suffering from a lung disease since birth. We had both managed fine, and no cat in our family had been selected since Batface, who had won.

I clamped the catmint in my jaws and headed to leave, but before I did I saw it. A rabbit. A juicy, fat rabbit that could feed _four cats._ How something that fat was here, in leaf-fall, I don't know. But it was prey. Prey that we needed. Slowly, I crept towards it, pouncing at the last minute. This was the most luck that I had had in awhile. And it was all mine, with no cat to steal it.

Finally, with nothing else to distract me, I grabbed my loot and headed back to the sheltered hollow underneath a bramble bush that our family lived in. As soon as I dropped the rabbit, Dawnpaw gasped. "It's huge," she murmured as I gave the catmint to Hazelstorm. She accepted it gratefully.

"You're the only one who hasn't eaten," Larchwood pointed out to me. "You should have some of that rabbit."

It was tempting, but I pushed it away. "Nonsense. I'll eat something else, and then we can share the rabbit as our Reaping Day feast, along with the remaining tesserae." As I crunched through a mouse's bones with my teeth, I added another thought. "Speaking of the tesserae, how long until it next comes?"

Batface glanced at a slate made of bark. Even though Batface was a former victor, we were a Division Three family- the lowest of the low- and we couldn't afford the fancier things that Division One and Two cats could, such as herbs from the medicine store and writing slates- _proper _ones- that the upper class cats used to keep track of important information. "Today, actually," he responded. "We can get them after the Reaping, which we'll leave for about..."

Hazelstorm chewed the last of the catmint and swallowed. "Right now," she finished. "Come on. We can't be late, you know that. Let's go."

With that, we headed off to the dreaded Reaping.

* * *

_Mallowclaw_

_ThunderClan warrior_

_Division Two_

It was sunhigh, and I barely had any prey except two mice and a vole. Fortunately, the tesserae would be in today. We could pick it up, and have our feast. The wonderful feast that was promised to us. As Division Two cats, our tesserae packages came with two rabbits and a squirrel, beechnuts that we could use to lure out prey, the basic herbs (marigold, borage, feverfew, chervil, catmint, juniper berries, yarrow, and thyme, only a few stalks of each), and a few sticks and stones to help with our shelters. Division One cats are lucky as they don't _ever _need to apply for tesserae; Division Three cats are...less fortunate. They have a choice with their tesserae, one that gets made at the quarter-moon when we all collect it. Either they can trade in one of their rabbits for more herbs, or have only one stalk of each herb and have an extra piece of prey, something large (like a bird, the type depending on what the camp has). Or they could choose not to.

I enter our den, built on top of ThunderClan's gorge. It's stretched between two trees. When we first found it, we found a stick that could be propped in between the two trees, and we let other sticks rest on it, forming a safe shelter during all seasons. The gaps are filled with mud, and a cleverly concealed tunnel through the ground gives us easy access. The tunnel's cramped, but without it our supplies could be stolen.

As soon as I enter the den, three small bodies crash into me, nearly knocking me over. "Dad!" they all exclaim. My kits.

"Where have you been?" the largest demanded. She was named Whitekit, after her pure white pelt, similar in color to me. The second, a red ticked tabby tomkit, trailed behind, the one we had named Flamekit. The third kit, Lichenkit, skittered around her mother's paws, but leapt up to see my entrance, too. She had a dilute calico pelt, and soft, amber eyes. I loved all my kits, but this one the most, if I had to decide.

I dropped the food down in the den, and pushed the bigger of the mice towards Foxthorn, my mate. She ate it in a few ravenous bites, then took the next one and gave it to the kits. They all split it, and once again, it was gone as soon as it appeared. Finally, I ate the shrew, slower than how the others had eaten theirs, but still relatively quick. "We should get going," I mewed.

They all nodded, but Whitekit shied in fear. "Dad, what if I'm chosen?" she asked, shivering in fear.

I tense at her question. It reminds me, even if she can't be chosen this time around, she will next time. Every six moons. Right now they're four moons, so at their next Reaping, they'll be they'll be ten moons.

Ten moons. The minimum age to enter in the Games.

However, I force myself to be calm. "You won't be chosen. You actually _can't _be chosen yet. You're too young. _But you won't be too young, next time. _"We'll be fine." If only I could believe that myself.

The ThunderClan camp is bustling. At the base of the Highledge, I see the deputy, Gorsefoot, a blue-and-cream spotted she-cat. Despite the dire situation, she sits perfectly still, tail wrapped around her feet. Next to her are the Clan's medicine cat and the medicine cat apprentice, Shadowtail and Lionpaw. The seal-point medicine cat sits as regally as Gorsefoot, yet the cream ticked tabby tom is fidgety and nervous. Even though he is ineligible, he must have loved ones. Standing to the side on the Highledge, Ashstar stands respectfully. In the middle, the center of every cat's attention, is Darktail. Once he's sure every cat has arrived, he signals to the guards to close off the entrance. Any cat who arrives now, and is late, will be held in confinement until Darktail decides your punishment. Then, the tom barks out orders.

"Division One! Division One, over there! Toms at the front, she-cats further back! Good! Now, Division Two, there, and Division Three, there! You know what to do! Kits, stand by your leader! All kits, to Ashstar! Elders and cats in-between ages, to the base of the Highledge!" I move to the designated area for myself, where the Dark Forest cats start to go through the lines, collecting the Offerings. After a while, Mapleshade comes to me.

"Stick out your paw," she orders, like every year. I'm surprised they're not bored of this, but they like blood, apparently. I do so, and the tortoiseshell raises a sharp stone, piercing it into my paw. Blood bubbled over in a thin trickle. The she-cat smeared it all over the stone, then did it twice more, for each of my tesserae entries. Then, she whisked away, onto the others.

At last, all the stones had been collected. Darktail gestured to Tigerstar.

"As ever, ThunderClan is yours to torment, Tigerstar."

The massive brown tabby stepped forwards. First, he padded to the Division Three cats. "The Division Three cat selected as Tribute is…" he paused, picking up a stone. He held it to his nose, then continued, "Dawnpaw."

A frail, cream apprentice stepped forwards. _She doesn't look like she would last a minute, _I thought. One of Darktail's guards stepped forward to take her, but not before another she-cat called out. She had a white pelt, with a few black spots on her back. A growl rose in my throat as I recognised her. _Beaten by two Division Three cats. _Great. "Wait!" she exclaimed. "I volunteer for her!"

The Dark Forest leader nodded. "Apprentice, what is your name?" he questioned.

"Lightpaw," the she-cat replied without hesitation.

Very well. Guards, take her."

Tigerstar then padded to the toms pile. He picked out a stone, identified it, and then said, "Bluefeather." At once, a blue tom stepped forwards, looking eager to prove himself. The guards took him, as well.

The massive brown tabby then stepped towards the Division Two cats. He picked up the stone from the she-cats' pile, and then said, "Foxthorn."

_No! _Instantly, I called out, "I'll take her place!" With one stare from the tom's amber eyes, I felt myself tremble in fear. How did the others manage? Only then I realised why he was furious- only toms can volunteer for toms, and she-cats for she-cats. And they have to be in the same division.

"Have you forgotten the rules, ThunderClan warrior?"

"No," I replied, trying not to betray my emotions. He then nodded, and turned to the toms' pile. Picking out a stone, he held it to his muzzle. Then he turned to face me again.

"Of course," he said to me, "If you wanted to be in the Games, here's your chance, _Mallowclaw_."

Oh. Great. Now _both _of us will be competing against each other. What if we're the last two left? What if one of us has to kill the other? I couldn't do that, and I know that she couldn't, either.

The guards sprung to my side, holding me, and I had no choice but to watch on, helplessly, as the two stones were chosen for Division One. Tigerstar took them both at once, before announcing, "Sootpaw and Cedarholly."

Darktail rose to his paws. "ThunderClan tributes, you may say goodbye to your friends and family," he granted. At once, I ran up onto the Highledge to grab Whitekit, Flamekit, and Lichenkit, then rushed down to Foxthorn. Tears sparked in both of our eyes.

Nearby, I saw Lightpaw saying good-bye. She seemed to be instructing them on herbs. When she finished, her family padded over here. A light brown she-cat, though frail, spoke strongly.

"We'll take care of your kits. They will be like our own," she declared.

I dipped my head. "Thank you. The white one is Whitekit, the ginger Flamekit, and the tortie is Lichenkit." I liked each of the kits affectionately before murmuring, "Goodbye. Remember that I love you, no matter what happens."

They only now seemed to understand the direty of the situation. "Goodbye, Mom and Dad," they whimpered.

Darktail stepped up, a taunting smile plastered on his maw. "Now you must leave, tributes. Happy Claw Games. And remember…

"May the odds be _ever_ in your favor!"


End file.
